Just Another Mystery
by Punky Misfit
Summary: After Booth goes missing a DVD turns up showing his murder. Brennan refuses to believe it's true, and sets out to find out the truth of what happened to him before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** " If Agent Booth was murdered, wouldn't you do anything in your powers to make sure that you found the killer?" That line from "Yanks In The U.K." is what inspired this story.

References to season 5 story lines.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own any of the characters or rights, and DEFINTELY not profitting, ha ha.

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"Come on, Bones. Just one drink. Then I'll leave you alone the rest of the weekend, I swear."

Dr. Temperance Brennan looked up from her desk at the face speaking to her. FBI Agent Seeley Booth was nearly bouncing in place with energy. His brown eyes were alight with a mischievous glow. She couldn't hold back a smile from him. "I have a lot of work to do, Booth."

"On Friday night? C'mon! Live a little."

Brennan glanced back down at the case report she was writing. She was almost tempted to take his invitation. _Almost. _"I've been putting this off for weeks. There's emails I've never answered. Bones that need examining. I _do_ investigate other remains here besides murder victims."

"I know that."

Booth and Brennan had been partners for quite some time. Brennan was a brilliant forensic anthropologist who assisted the FBI, specifically Booth, on cases. Before Booth and the world of crime solving had come into her life Brennan worked at the prestigious Jeffersonian Institute identifying victims from centuries ago.

But the two of them had accomplished more working together than they ever could have alone. It was a partnership and a deep friendship. Sometimes Brennan had a hard time remembering what life was like before. It seemed her memories always surrounded Booth and the strange family of fellow doctors and assistants who provided help with their cases. There had been a time in which she'd been annoyed when Booth had seemed to sweep in out of nowhere with a murder for them to solve. In fact, she'd even complained to her boss. Now she couldn't imagine her life without him.

"Why don't you take Natalie?"

Brennan and Booth shared everything with one another. Which was why she had been shocked to discover a few months ago that Booth had a girlfriend. It was something he'd never mentioned to her. She'd only learned of it by walking in on the two of them kissing in his office at the FBI. Booth had been mortified. For some reason he always kept his love life private from her. Natalie had nearly broken her hand shaking it while Booth had introduced them. The two rarely came into contact. But when they did, Natalie glared icily at Brennan as though she were a bug that needed to be squashed.

Brennan never understood why. She and Booth had never been sexual. Not that Brennan didn't think of him in that way. She did, often. Booth was a strong, handsome man. But they were partners. The idea of being in a relationship with him seemed inappropriate.

Booth made a face.

"Why not? I thought you were experiencing love for her."

"Experiencing? Bones," he laughed, taking a step closer to her desk. "You don't experience love. You feel it. And I do. It's just, you know," he seemed suddenly timid. "We just finished our case. Going for a drink is… you know… _our_ thing."

She sighed. This time her eyes wandered to her computer monitor. Over seventy emails were waiting for her. Damn him for being so convincing.

Sensing he was close to changing her mind, he gave her his puppy eyed charm look. The look he used to get his way.

Brennan had to look away. Her resolve needed to be firm. Friday night or not, tradition or not, she absolutely needed to work. "Booth. I'm sorry."

He shrugged, trying to hide disappointment. "Worth a shot. I'll see you Monday."

She said goodbye, watching him go before turning back to her work. With a deep breath she clicked on the first email awaiting her attention.

***

For the most part she spent the entire weekend in that same manner. Most people enjoyed the weekends to get away from it all. Not Brennan. Work kept her intelligent mind active. Besides, none of her coworkers ventured into work on their down time. The silence she had was utilized and appreciated. The Jeffersonian lab was all hers.

By Monday she was completely caught up and relaxed. She strode in at the usual appointed hour. She walked into her office expecting to find Booth reclining with his feet kicked up on her couch and their latest case file waiting in his lap. Surprisingly, he wasn't there.

Brennan waited ten minutes. She shrugged off her coat. She turned on her computer. Still there was no sign of Booth. Puzzled, she walked back out onto the main stage of the lab. "Cam?" She called as her boss walked past her. "Has Booth been here this morning?"

Cam was an old friend of Booth's. She shook her head no. "I haven't seen him. Come to think of it," she paused. "He should be here by now, shouldn't he?"

Brennan didn't think her question really warranted an answer. And so she moved on. Back in her office from her phone she tried his cell. No answer. Next she tried his office phone. Voice mail. In desperation she at last tried his home phone number. It rang and rang without even an answering machine to pick up. It was all highly abnormal.

After turning her cell phone off she sat completely still, pondering. Booth was never unreachable. She could count on one hand the number of times he didn't answer his phone in the years they'd been together. Perhaps he and Natalie were playing hooky? A fire of jealousy ignited in her belly. No. Booth wouldn't do that. Would he?

There was just no settling it. No doubt he was perfectly fine. But Brennan needed to see him. Something was telling her to be suspicious. Normally Brennan didn't trust her gut. By default she was a woman of science, of rational thinking. But looking at the situation rationally gave her the same feeling. Booth's behavior wasn't typical for him. She had to find him.

The first place she went was to his apartment. Knocking on the door proved pointless. No one answered. Brennan fished in her purse for the spare keys Booth had given her to his place. Shyly she let herself inside. "Booth?" She called as she did. A part of her was afraid of what she might come across. What if he and Natalie were "having a moment?" Brennan wasn't sure what feelings she'd develop if she'd stumbled into something of that sort.

Luckily neither of them were there. Nothing was out of place, except Booth's house phone had been knocked off the hook. Brennan hung it back up. She poked all around his place until she was satisfied with herself. Next she decided she'd try his office.

There she found the same results. Only it appeared as though Booth had never come in for the day. The door had been closed. The lights were off inside. That didn't stop her from entering. Maybe he had been there and left. While she investigated she tried again fruitlessly to call his cell.

On his desk on top of his day planner she found a silver cd-rom. The disc was unmarked. Brennan picked it up gently. Was this something Booth had been working on? Could it have been a clue as to his where abouts?

"Temperance?"

Brennan turned around to find Booth's boss, A.D. Hacker, standing in the doorway. "Andrew," she forced a smile she didn't feel. "Hi."

"What are you doing here? Where's Booth?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Discreetly she slipped the disc into her purse. "I can't find him. Has he been in today?"

Hacker took a moment to think about it. "No. Can't say that I've seen him."

Brennan did not like the idea that was forming. Either he was with Natalie, or something had happened. As furious as it would make her she hoped for the first option.

"Is he in trouble?" Hacker pressed.

"I don't know." She excused herself. "If you see him, please call me."

"Certainly."

***

Over and over again Brennan phoned his cell on her drive back to the Jeffersonian. Each and every time it rang directly to his voice mail. Frustration caused her to drop her phone into the passenger seat. Where on earth was Booth?

Back in the lab she rushed to her office, saying little to nothing to anyone. Shutting the door behind her, she removed the disc from her purse and popped it into her computer. Brennan could only hope she'd gain some insight while it loaded.

A video flashed onto the screen. It appeared to be taken from a lousy security camera. The sound was distorted. The picture quality was grainy. Booth was tied to a chair. His back was to the camera. He was struggling while a shadow just out of the camera's range paced back and forth.

The sound of a gun shot sent shivers of panic through Brennan. On screen Booth slumped and was still.

Suddenly it was as though Brennan couldn't breathe. No. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. She replayed the video over and over again. Each time the result was the same.

Booth had been murdered.


	2. Chapter 2

Brennan was frozen in place. She refused to believe it. It had to be some sort of decoy. Ploy. Perhaps the cd-rom was sitting on Booth's desk until it was to be used. Could the bureau be faking his death? They'd done it once before. It was plausible.

For a few more times she forced herself to rewatch the video. As she did she tried to pick out any points her eyes could have possibly missed before. The only piece she picked up was that the shooting had been an execution style. Almost military. Though the figure's head lolled off to one side no blood was visable. Was it because of the angle? Or had there been any? Maybe he hadn't been struck in the head at all. Conceivably Booth had been left to suffer before he died.

Her stomach tightened in knots and she felt her breakfast rise to the back of her throat. Tears burned her steel blue eyes. No. She had to remain objective. There was no saying the cd-rom was legitimate.

But then why couldn't she get a hold of him?

In vain she tried once again to dial his cell phone. _Please answer, _she silently pleaded to herself.

There was none. After the usual amount of rings it traveled straight to his voice mail.

Tense minutes passed by while Brennan contemplated her next move. Her always disassociated and analytical mind had been knocked off its track. This wasn't what she usually dealt with. A stranger. It was Booth. Booth whom she hadn't seen or heard from since Friday. Booth, who wasn't an easy man to abduct. How could someone have gotten to him?

She continued to think things out. The man on the video had his back to the camera. There was a possibility it wasn't him. It was a slim chance, but one she was willing to take. She snatched the disc from her computer drive and stood.

Angela's office was only a few doors away from her own. Her best friend worked at the Jeffersonian as a facial reconstructionist. But she also had access to advanced computerized technology. Perhaps there was some way she could manipulate the video in a way that gave them proof that Booth hadn't been the victim. That it was a case of mistaken identity.

In Brennan's rush she didn't think about how seeing what she saw would affect anyone else. Angela was at her computer with music playing when she burst in. "I need you to analyze something," she blurted.

Angela raised an eyebrow. It wasn't often Brennan came across as flustered. Or hurried into her office. _Must have something to do with Booth, _she thought. Whenever Booth was concerned Brennan's emotions were closer to the surface than the woman realized. "What is it?"

Brennan handed over the disc. Angela fed it into her player. Soon the flat clear screen she'd designed in her office began playing the same scene. It didn't take long before her hand was over her mouth and she was fighting tears. "Where'd you get this?"

"Booth's desk," Brennan admitted in a soft voice. "He's missing, Ange. He's not answering his phone. He hasn't been at work."

Angela tried to replay the video once again. When the gunshot went off she had to pause it. The sound was painful. "Sweetie, it's him." Her voice broke.

"No. We don't know that. He's not facing the camera." Brennan pointed. "See?"

Trying to keep her crying under control, Angela blubbered, "it's his hair. It's his clothes." She punched in a few buttons on her remote to focus in on the man in the chair. "Remember? That's what he was wearing Friday. It's him. They killed him."

Whether it was because her mind wouldn't process the thought, or because she needed more evidence, Brennan refused to agree that it was Booth on the video. "Can you clean up the quality? And the sound?"

"I… suppose. But shouldn't we hand this over to the FBI? They should… there should be.." she began sobbing again. "An investigation. How could this have happened?"

Brennan couldn't take it anymore. Angela's tears were just too real. She couldn't hear it. Booth was not dead. Until she was actually presented with his body she wouldn't believe it. There was an explanation for all this. And she'd get to the bottom of it. No matter how the situation was viewed, Booth was still missing.

Brennan locked herself back in the solace of her own office. She sat down numbly. Nothing could stop her from trying to call his cell phone again. Just as she hung up her own phone began ringing. Her exuberance nearly knocked over the hand set. "Booth?" She exclaimed.

"No, Temperance. It's Andrew."

The balloon of hope deflated. "Hi." The helium returned. "Are you with Booth? Did you find him?"

"No. I'm at the hospital, actually."

The pang of panic nagged her again. "Oh. Is he there?"

"No. You know he was dating Natalie, right?"

Panic transcended back into jealousy. Did everyone know before her? "Yes. Why?"

"She's been admitted in critical condition. Parking lot security brought her in after she was kicked out of a moving car in front the emergency room entrance."

"Critical?" She repeated as though she didn't understand.

"She had a note on her. And blood."

Brennan inhaled a breath and held it.

"The note claims responsibility for Booth's death. We've sent out samples of the blood to the lab. But we expect it to be his."

"I'm on my way," she hung up before he could respond. Tears were managing to fall from her eyes as she ran from her office to the parking garage. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be. But the evidence was beginning to stack up against her. What had Booth gotten himself into?

In the hospital parking lot she found herself parked in a space without knowing how she had gotten there. She snapped alert suddenly, like she'd been on autopilot. Her cheeks were stiff with dried tears. Before getting out she rubbed her hands over her face. Booth wasn't dead. It didn't matter what the letter said. She just had to keep telling herself that.

Hacker was in the waiting room with numerous other agents. He was the first to approach her once she came inside. "Temperance, I'm so sorry."

The last thing she wanted was sympathy. Defeat. She ignored it. "Did you find anything else out?"

"Some. Booth was working on a special assignment."

"Special assignment?" That didn't make any sense to her. "But he's been working cases with me."

"He's been on this as well. I don't know what it is. The case wasn't a part of my department. But I'm working on finding out."

Brennan sank down into a chair. It felt as though someone had slapped her. First Natalie. Now this. Booth almost always had told her everything. These unraveling secrets were hurting her more than she ever would have expected. Hadn't he trusted her?

He sat down next to her, hesitantly putting an arm around her. "It's something to do with the military. That's all I know."

The video. The execution. "I found a cd-rom on his desk this morning." She found herself saying. Briefly she proceeded to fill him in with what she knew.

Hacker took it as a sign to tighten his embrace. "I'm so sorry. We'll find who did this to him."

Brennan gasped softly. "He's not dead," she insisted in a hardened voice. Immediately she separated herself from him. Hacker called after her but his efforts were wasted. By the time Brennan stopped herself she'd found her way back out into the parking lot. With each step she was choking back tears.

He was alive. They were all wrong.

But deep down she had begun to fear, what if _she _was wrong?


	3. Chapter 3

Brennan took herself back to the lab. Word about Booth had spread around like wildfire. No one dared to talk to her. Most could barely make eye contact. Whatever could be said Brennan wouldn't have wanted to hear anyway. She wouldn't listen to comfort. And she wouldn't listen to doubt, or disbelief.

However, the lab was her home away from home. Being there in the space she spent much time with him in felt more comfortable. If she'd gone home she'd never be able to relax. Not that she was accomplishing much of that in general.

She shut the door to her office and collapsed back down at her desk. Her mind worked through the horrific images on the video. Though tears swam through her eyes she pushed them back. The memory changed as her imagination abruptly ran rampant. In her mind's eye she could clearly see him pulling his wrists against the rope that bound him. The look of hate he possessed in his eyes chilled her down to her very bones. As his captor lifted the killing weapon he raised his chin defiantly. The sound of the shot repeated in her ears.

But that wasn't right. There was proof right in the man's actions that he wasn't Booth. Her partner would have fought a lot harder. He wouldn't have just let himself be killed.

Unless he was drugged.

She swatted hastily at a tear. There was no use speculating. Only focusing on the present.

But where to begin? There was no body. No evidence except a bad quality video.

Angela knocked upon her door just then. Without being invited she let herself inside. "Sweetie? I've been looking over the video." She looked traumatized. "I think I got something."

Brennan buried her hope. "What?"

"Well, I fixed the images as best I could, which still wasn't great. But," she paused, trying to decide how to continue. "Do you really want to know what I did, or what I found?"

"I want results."

Angela nodded slightly. "I think I know where Booth is."

***

Hacker was Brennan's first call. By the time she stopped her car in front of the tentative address Angela had come up with some forty five minutes later, agents were just arriving and swarming the scene. Brennan parked. She strode up to whom she presumed was the agent Hacker had informed her he'd put in charge of Booth's case. She made eye contact with him. Then silently headed inside.

"Whoa, whoa," the agent was tugging on her arm. Stopping her. "I don't think so."

"I have to go in there."

"You gotta wait out here. Who are you?"

"His partner."

"You gotta wait out here," he emphasized.

If she'd been with Booth the two could have easily found a way out around him. But solo, she was idealess. She stood back with her arms crossed. Her eyes burned holes into the back of the agent's head. Agent Bartz.

Minutes went by as agents stormed the building. Bartz stood stock still next to her. His cell phone ringing made them both jump. He removed it from his pocket, spoke quietly, then put it away. His look of sorrow towards her made her heart near tear from her chest. "Do you feel up to making an identification?"

"I'll do what needs to be done." She walked away without another word. Outside she was the picture of calm. Inside she was shaking like a little girl. What had they found?

Agents pointed her down a long flight of stairs into a basement room. Inside crime scene investigators were kneeling over a decaying body. The face had been shot, removing any chances of recognition. But just as in the video the body bore the clothes Booth had been wearing. The blood stained hair matched his. In the middle of his chest was a wound that looked at though it'd gone straight through the heart. Even the body type was similar.

Brennan felt ill.

"Can you tell us if this is Agent Booth?" One of the CSI men asked.

Gently Brennan shook her head no. Her voice came out in a low, hushed tone. "I want the body sent back to my lab."

The group looked back and forth at one another. "With all due respect, I-"

"No." There would be no arguing with her. "Send it there. We'll perform the autopsy."

Some time later Brennan excused herself outside. She leaned against her car while calling Cam, her boss and coroner.

"I'm having the body transported to the lab," she opened with.

Cam was incredulous. "What?"

"I want you to autopsy him."

"Dr. Brennan! There's no way-" her voice cracked in mid sentence. "He's my friend. I'm not comfortable-"

"I don't trust them." Brennan admitted. "His face is…" she couldn't even bring herself to say the words. "There's no saying its him. It _has _to be us."

Cam was quiet. Finally she granted her permission. Brennan hung up. She unconsciously went back inside to give the technicians instructions. A pain knocked around her heart. Booth was usually the one ordering his peers around.

Brennan finished up as fast as she could. Her mind was becoming clouded. Despite her firm resolve her emotions were getting the best of her. She climbed into the driver's seat of her car when Bartz flagged her down. Curiously she rolled down her window.

"I just got the call. Natalie's woken up. I figured you'd want to be there while I question her."

"You figured right."

Bartz studied her as though she were a wild animal. "You two are close, eh?"

"We're partners," was the only reply he got from her. She put her window back up. Once Bartz FBI issued SUV left the parking lot she followed.

There was so much she wanted to know. The woman must have had some answers. And Brennan would get them.

***

Brennan met Bartz in front of the hospital entrance. He guided her inside up to the appointed floor. Neither one said much to each other. Really, they'd only been brought together for one reason. Booth. Over all Brennan was still sizing up the man. She hadn't made a decision on his competence.

Together they walked into Natalie's hospital room. The petite woman was awake. She looked small in her over sized hospital bed. Her face and hands were beat up. Many contusions already were forming on her arms. Though she showed some interest in her two visitors, it quickly waned.

"Hi Natalie, I'm Agent Bartz with the FBI." He went through the usual routine of flashing his badge. "This is-"

"We know each other," Brennan cut him off.

"Right. Listen, I know this is difficult right now with everything you're going through, but I need to ask you some questions regarding the agent who disappeared with you, Seeley Booth."

Natalie's dark, dead eyes came sparkling to life. "I don't know anything!"

Bartz knelt down by her bed. "Tell me what happened."

Tears rained from her eyes as she spoke. "We were out having a drink. Well, more than a drink. We both got pretty hammered."

Brennan narrowed her sights. That didn't sound right. Booth's father had been a violent alcoholic. And so while he drank, he rarely, if ever, got drunk.

"We left the bar to take a walk. These guys just jumped out from nowhere and attacked us. Everything is just a blur." Natalie put her hands over her eyes.

"Can you tell me about what time this was?"

"I don't know, like ten or so." She choked back a sob. "Look, I don't know anything else. Just leave me alone, okay?"

"We'll talk some more when you're up to it," Bartz promised.

In her head Brennan did the math while she followed him out into the hallway. Booth didn't leave her office until nine thirty. There was absolutely no way he'd of been able to pick up Natalie and become all out drunk in a half an hour. Certainly not for a man of his size.

Something wasn't adding up. Natalie was lying. The question was, why?


	4. Chapter 4

Booth was having the most amazing dream.

He was laying flat out on a beach of sandy white. The sky overhead was a clear blue color. Seagulls cried out as they circled round. Their sounds mixed in with the soft surf crashing up against the shore made for a perfect paradise.

If only Booth could get up to enjoy it.

Something was pressing him down, down, hard into the ground. Anytime he tried to move the pressure kept him glued in place. It was as though heavy weights had taken over his appendages. The weight against his chest made it difficult to breathe. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to care about it. Any of it. Anything at all, for that matter. His ex. His son. The FBI. Bones. His frustration over his unrequited feelings for her. Even trivial worries (bills, etc) were gone to the wind. All he could do was just enjoy the warm sun on his face. If he could get up he'd put his feet in the waves. If only…

The dream began to fade as a repeated beating pelted his face. He opened his eyes to pure darkness. A dark silhouette stood over him. His arm cranked back before bringing a balled fist down against Booth's body. Though he had woken the abuse continued.

It puzzled Booth, despite his delirious state, that the pain wasn't entirely uncomfortable. Any sort of touch sent a sensational wave of pleasure through his body. He wasn't the least bit afraid. And just as in his dream, he didn't care. Couldn't bring himself to.

"You picked the wrong group to mess with," the person assured him in a sinister voice. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

Booth felt his hands and legs become restrained. He closed his eyes, hoping to get back to that beach. To that place where nothing mattered.

"Stupid fed." A needle was shoved into his arm. "Trying to fool us. Once we're done with you we'll dump your dead body right on the front steps of the bureau."

The needle remained in his arm. Duct tape was taped down securely over it. A cloth was forced over his nose and mouth. Soon, Booth was back at his beach.

***

Brennan took her sweet time driving back from the hospital. She took the longest route she could think of. The body had no doubt arrived at the lab by now. Pride wouldn't let her admit to anyone that she didn't want to be there while Cam was performing the autopsy. After all, she'd been the one who'd pushed for it. What would she do it if _was _Booth? What had he been doing that he'd worked so hard to keep her out of? Was it worth losing his life for?

Without thinking she found herself driving to his apartment. She was sure the FBI had already been through it. But they didn't know Booth like she did. There was the possibility of places they had missed. Subtle signs.

Just as she predicted the inside of his place was trashed from agents searching through it. Brennan cleaned as she began conducting her own investigation. _Booth needs to come home to a clean apartment if he's injured, _she thought to herself. _If he comes home. _She berated herself for thinking such thoughts.

She made her way into his kitchen. For a moment she lingered in the doorway.

"_All right, Bones, there's one egg roll left and two of us." Booth rubbed his hands together mischievously. The two of them were seated at the table and chairs in his kitchen. In front of them were glasses of wine and the remnants of the Chinese food they'd had for dinner._

_Brennan stared at him, clearly not understanding. "What's your point, Booth?"_

"_What are we going to do about it?"_

"_We could split it-"_

"_No." He cut her off. "Quick. Pick a number between one and ten."_

_Sometimes he acted like such a child. She scowled at him. "The statistical chances of me picking the right number are not in my favor."_

"_Just pick something."_

_She blew air out between her lips. "Three."_

"_Wrong! I win!" He popped the egg roll in his mouth._

"_That's not fair!"_

"_It's so fair," Booth laughed._

For ten minutes she'd pretended to be mad at him. Then he'd wormed his way back into her good graces like he always did.

Brennan forced herself to move on. Her search was painful enough without running through the memories.

She got into Booth's bedroom. His comforting smell enveloped her. First thing her eyes became drawn to was a picture of himself and Natalie tucked into the mirror tacked on his dresser. Brennan leaned in for a closer look. All along she had never cared much for the woman. Now after being uncooperative Brennan found herself disliking her all the more. Her thoughts returned full circle. What was she lying about? Who was she trying to protect? Herself, or him?

From top to bottom Brennan scoured his bedroom. She searched through his drawers; closets. Nothing turned up out of the ordinary. Right as she was able to leave it occurred to her to search underneath his bed. Her cell phone rang as she knelt down to do so. "Brennan."

"It's not Booth." Cam blurted.

"What?"

"The body. It isn't Booth. Whomever killed him did a great job in trying to make him look like Booth. But he isn't."

"Did you check his dental records?" Not that Brennan wasn't relieved at the news. She just wanted to be damn sure before she rejoiced.

"His face... There weren't many teeth."

"Then how do you know?"

"X-rays don't match. This man internally has no match on anything from Booth's body."

Brennan grinned from ear to ear. But she turned somber. If that man wasn't Booth then her best friend was still somewhere out there. Alive? Dead? Had he been murdered?

"We'll find him, Dr. Brennan." Cam broke into her thoughts.

Brennan promptly hung up on her. She pocketed her phone. Underneath his bed she stretched her arm as far as it would go. The tips of her fingers brushed against a shoe box. It tugged out easily into her grasp. Peeling the top off, she peered inside.

A gun she had never seen him carry before laid on top of a pile of papers. Brennan took a closer look at it. Compared to Booth she knew next to nothing about weapons. But she knew what she had in her hands was not anything the FBI would issue. Carefully she set it on the floor besides her.

The papers were plans that entailed a complex plot to blow up the Pentagon. Brennan inhaled roughly. Underneath was a picture of Booth with a group of men she didn't recognize. There was one face that stood out more than the rest. Amongst the group was a woman. Natalie.

The two were linked to something incredibly dangerous. And baffling. What on earth would Booth be doing with plans for a terrorist attack? He was more patriotic than anyone she knew. And how did Natalie fit into this game?

Brennan gathered up the evidence and took it with her. These were pieces of a puzzle that she was determined to solve. Booth's life was counting on it.


	5. Chapter 5

She'd no more climbed back into her car when her phone rang. "Brennan," she answered distractedly. Besides her in the passenger seat she set the shoe box down.

"Temperance, it's Andrew. Are you available to meet?"

Brennan immediately looked down at the box. How much more time could she afford to waste?

"It's about Booth," he verified.

"Okay."

***

Natalie was laying in her hospital bed on her side. She was lost deep in her own feelings while staring out the window. Gorgeous, rainbow rays of sun lit the floor like a stage. Life felt like a stage. She'd been pretending for so long. And now her lies were most likely responsible for the death of one of the most caring men she'd ever known.

And she was sure by now he was dead. She'd happened to overhear what the group planned on doing to him. No one could survive something so brutal.

Behind her she could hear quiet, padded footsteps. Apprehensively she inhaled. Only one person could make those sort of sound of footsteps. Natalie's body stiffened.

A shadow fell over her back.

"Is he dead?" Her voice came out more strained then she intended. Tears pricked her eyes.

"I'm not here to talk about that."

"I want to know." She insisted.

"You betrayed us."

She was shocked. "Betrayed you? I helped you!"

"You knew exactly what he was this entire time. You didn't come forward about any of it. Therefore, you turned your back on us. On what this group is."

Natalie pressed her lips together firmly. There was nothing more for her to say.

Unexpectedly she was flipped over onto her back. She found herself staring up into the eyes of her own brother. "Tom-"

"We can't trust you. You're not a part of this group." His eyes were so cold she shivered. "And if you're not one of us," he threw her for a loop by swiftly handcuffing her wrist to the bed. "Then you can't be with us. You know too many secrets."

Natalie didn't let him get her other wrist so easily. She put up a hard fight before he smacked her straight on in the forehead. Stars rotated in a circle in front of her eyes. Helplessly she whimpered.

Her cry turned into a full out scream when Tom brandished a knife.

***

Brennan and Hacker agreed to meet at The Royal Diner. Brennan sped inside to find him already sitting down at a table. Without a single word she dropped down into a chair across from him and waited expectantly. There was no point in borrowing time they didn't have on pleasantries.

"I used some of my contacts and I've been able to find out what special assignment Booth was on." Hacker frowned at her sadly. "There's a group of military veterans who are angry at the government over the way they've been treated since getting back from Iraq. From what it sounds like they're a pretty dangerous bunch. The FBI has knowledge of attacks being planned against federal buildings."

Brennan nodded. Her thoughts flashed back to the papers she found. They must have been trusting Booth with that plot. Or planned for him to carry it out.

"Booth was planted inside in order to gather information."

Brennan had to take a breath to calm the beast of anger that was rearing its head. "Why Booth? Why not someone else?"

"He volunteered."

Hot licks of fire and rain ignited in her chest. Why would he do something so crazy, so stupid? She hadn't realized she'd spoken her thoughts out loud until Hacker answered, "he believed in what he was doing, Temperance."

She swallowed back a hard lump that had wedged itself in her throat.

"He was playing double agent. He kept working nearby cases with you so he could keep up the façade that he was two different people."

"They caught on," she spoke the most obvious truth. _Why didn't he just tell me? _Over the last case she tried to think of any odd behavior he'd displayed. Any indication that he was hiding something. There wasn't a single instance.

"It seems that way."

Brennan's cell phone cut into their conversation. For the moment she chose to ignore it. Her mind was still processing this new round of information. However, after it went to voice mail and the phone began ringing again, she decided it was important. Without much enthusiasm she answered.

"It's Bartz. Where are you?"

"Royal Diner."

"I'm coming to get you."

He sounded so much like Booth that she had to push back an intense stab of pain. "Why? What is it?"

"Natalie's been attacked at the hospital. She was stabbed."

Her chair crashed onto the floor from her standing up so fast. "Is she dead?"

"No. We have agents posted outside her room now. But she's talking."

"I'll be out front." She gathered up her purse. "That was Bartz. Natalie's willing to talk." She explained to Hacker.

"Go," he waved her off. "But someone better keep me posted."

Brennan fled the diner. Bartz was already waiting out front.

***

Natalie was pure white with pain when Brennan stomped in with Bartz in tow. Every fiber in her being was wild with urgency. Natalie's doctor had already warned them both they couldn't stay too long. The woman's wounds hadn't been fatal. She'd managed to save her life by screaming. Tom had stabbed her anyway, but not deep enough to kill.

There was something different now about her Brennan noticed as she took her in. The hardened dark eyes were now soft. Innocent, as if she were more a frightened child than someone who played an instrumental roll in the possible death of her partner.

Brennan said only one word to her. "Talk."

Natalie winced as she began speaking. "Rodney, or, what did you call him? Booth? He was Jake Rodney to us, a former military weapons specialist. He came to us about two months ago. Said he'd heard about us and believed in what we stood for. I won't lie. I noticed him right away."

Brennan glared at her. She knew exactly what Natalie was implying.

"I'm only a part of the group because my brother runs it. I can't ignore family, you know? He never used to be like this. He went away to war and came back an entirely different person. A dangerous person. I was afraid of what he would do to me if I didn't join."

Bartz held up a hand. "Tell us about Booth."

"I knew what he was all along. A fed. I did some snooping of my own and learned all about him. But I didn't tell anyone. It didn't matter to me. He was sweet, real sweet. And he looked out for me. The guys liked him. He knew his role and fit right in immediately." She shifted her gaze to Brennan. "The day you walked in on us kissing was the day I went to confront him about the truth. To tell him I didn't care. That I didn't really believe in the cause, either. What I didn't know was that Tom had begun to suspect my disloyalty. He had someone following me. Because of me Booth's cover was blown."

Brennan's hands balled into fists. As far as she was concerned this was all Natalie's fault. Bartz seemed to sense her strong emotion. Carefully he took a step in front of her. "What happened Friday night?"

"Tom, my brother, came to me. Told me if I didn't do what he said he'd kill me. Rod, er, Booth and I went out to the bar that night. He wasn't drunk, but I encouraged it. I tried. We went outside into the back like Tom instructed when a car came at us like planned. Booth shoved me behind him. He got clipped. I was sure he was dead then, but no. Tom had only hit him hard enough to knock him out."

Somehow Brennan doubted that was the case but let her continue.

"Inside the car were a group of them. They abducted us. They beat me until I lost consciousness then dropped me off here with the letter."

"And how'd his blood get on you?"

"After Tom hit him I was trying to help him."

Injured. Beat. Truly Brennan was beginning to lose control of her emotions. She silently excused herself as Bartz pressed on. "What about the man on the video?"

In the hall Brennan paced back and forth. She gazed up at the ceiling while trying to get her breathing under control. All she could picture was Booth's lifeless body laying in a ditch somewhere waiting to be discovered. What if the car had hit him harder than Natalie thought? What had they done with him? Could Booth have been dead this entire time? A sob escaped her at the thought. Once she heard Bartz leaving Natalie's room behind her she pulled herself back together.

"The man on the video was someone they abducted. They picked him out purposefully because he looked like Booth." Bartz shook his head. "They wanted the FBI to stop looking for him so they could torture him for however long he could stand it." He offered up a careful smile. "They obviously didn't count on his ruthless partner."

Brennan didn't smile back.

"Natalie gave us a tentative address of where he might be being held. Agents are already on their way."

"I want to go."

"I figured you did." He began towards the exit. "Lets go get your partner."


	6. Chapter 6

Booth's moaning could be heard throughout the house. The roller coaster his body had been on was beginning to come to an end. He found himself conscious, but not entirely. With it enough to know something terrible was happening to him. But still so out of it he was unable to do anything about it.

There was intense pain throughout his body. His head pounded. A sharp pain prodded him in the ribs whenever he breathed in. His right wrist, though restrained, was flopped at an unnatural angle. On his other arm he could feel cold metal stinging his skin. Something sticky was binding it down. The muscles in his arm flexed as he weakly tried to pull it away. It did no good. He was too feeble.

He was dizzy, the world being a fast moving merry go round. And hot. It felt like he was sweltering.

"Uh oh," a foreign voice cut through the darkness. There was the sound of movement. Items being fumbled. Booth groaned, that being the only way he was able to communicate.

The same cloth was pushed down over his face. Booth breathed in, feeling powder rush in through his nose and mouth. Within minutes his heart was ready to pound straight out of his chest. His top teeth grinded into his jaw. All the pain he'd been suffering dulled into pleasure. The sounds in his throat turned into a sigh as he began slipping away into his dreams. Voices around him carried him on his way.

"Malloy? You down here?"

"Yeah. He woke up. I was giving him some more of the goods."

"Woke up?"

"He was moaning and stuff."

"…how much did you give him?"

"I don't know, man. You left that rag out."

"Which cloth?"

"There's two?"

"Which. One?"

"I don't know. The one by the side, I guess."

"You idiot! You absolute idiot! You gave him everything we had left!"

"What's the big deal? We're killing him anyway."

"The drugs were only supposed to keep him from fighting us! From knowing what was happening to him! That wasn't the way he was supposed to die!"

"Oh."

"That's right, moron. Oh well. Sweet dreams, traitor. See ya in Hell."

***

Few agents were already on the scene by the time Bartz pulled the car he and Brennan were riding in up in front of the house. Flashing police lights turned the night sky into scene straight out of Hollywood. A couple of suspects were laid out across the lawn with hand cuffs clamped over their wrists. An agent was reading them their Miranda rights.

_He has to be here, _Brennan tried to assure herself as she stepped from the car and headed to the front door.

"Dr. Brennan!" Bartz called after her.

She didn't stop. She knew exactly what he would say. It would be a speech on safety, similar to ones Booth had given her. There was no time to listen. Nothing mattered until she found him.

"You're too late!" One of the suspects taunted her as she opened the front door. The agent over seeing him forced his head down into the grass.

Unfortunately, his mind game worked. Her movements sped up in their urgency.

Brennan had never flown so fast into a darkened unknown room. She pulled out a pocket flash light and shined it as she rushed about, not caring that she was acting illogical. If she'd had her wits about her then she'd have remembered to walk slowly and examine everything. But she was too frightened. Where could they have hidden Booth?

Off the living room was a set of stairs leading downwards. Brennan took the steps two at a time. She hit the bottom. Darkness surrounded her. She searched all along the wall for a light switch but was unable to find one. That made no sense. How could anyone see what they were doing?

Still, she continued forward, moving her flashlight to and fro. It caught sight of a wrought iron bed that strongly resembled a hospital bed. Brennan stopped dead. With a shaking hand she shined the light upward. Just as she was afraid of, a figure laying on top of the mattress was restrained. As she came closer she knew instantly it was Booth. "I found him!" She screamed so hard to the agents upstairs that her voice echoed back at her.

Brennan located a shelf in which she placed her flash light on top of. The light worked as a make shift lamp. The view wasn't the greatest, but it would work. She instantly was at Booth's side.

He was pale as death itself. One arm had been stretched out and tied down to a surgical steel table. Silver duct tape was wrapped around the crook of his arm. A tube filled with red liquid dripped out into a bucket. Brennan felt queasy once she realized what had been happening. Tom had been killing Booth gradually and painfully by draining the blood from his body.

Quick she was to rip off the tape and yank the needle from his vein. Over the wound she wrapped her hand. "Booth?"

He was utterly still. Nothing drew a response out of him.

"Booth?" She tried again, touching his face. His skin was freezing cold to the touch. Brennan's eyes shifted down to his chest. It wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing.

"Booth!" She cried. Forgoing his arm she dropped her hands to his chest in the form of a fist and began repetitively pressing down. Her mouth met his. Even his lips were ice cold. There was no saying how long he'd been dead for. It was likely pointless for her to try to revive him. But that wouldn't stop her. So much as there was breath in her lungs she'd fight for him.

She moved through the motions of CPR. Booth wasn't coming around. Brennan was so involved in trying to bring him back that she wasn't aware other agents had slipped into the room. Minutes went by before she felt Bartz tug at her arm. "Dr. Brennan, I'm sorry."

"No!" She wrestled away from him.

"It's too late," he said gently. "There's nothing you can do for him now."

She coldly disregarded him. _Booth, please, _she thought as she fought tears. _Please. Just breathe._

She'd had it in her mind that when he'd revived he'd gasp in a big breath of air. But it turned out not to be the case. After finishing another chest pump she leaned her mouth back down to his. His weak, moist breath greeted her lips. Her fingers checked his pulse. "He's alive!"

All around her she could hear shouts for paramedics. But she was oblivious to it all. "Booth, I'm here," she murmured, stroking his battered face. "I'm here."


	7. Chapter 7

At the hospital it was determined that it had been the drugs, not the amount of blood loss, that had sent Booth into cardiac arrest. His captors had been loading his system with ecstasy as a way of dulling out the pain. Their reasoning was he was less likely to fight, less likely to comprehend what they were doing to him if he was high from pleasure.

Booth was admitted in fatal condition and taken straight into ICU. Despite it all his injuries weren't as bad as anyone expected. He was bumped and bruised; his rib broken and wrist dislocated from the incident with the car. Otherwise it was just the lack of blood and the overdose of illegal drugs that were killing him. Immediately he was given a blood transfusion.

For the next few days Booth laid dormant in a coma. Brennan faithfully waited by his side for him to return to himself. No signs of life were evident in his actions. But day by day he grew stronger as the fresh blood pulsed through his veins and the remnants of the drugs worked their way out. Soon he was off a respirator and on a regular breathing tube. Still, he remained lost.

After three days he seemed to finally find his way home. Brennan had been sitting quietly holding his hand. It was something she'd found herself doing a lot since he'd been found. Being near him brought forth the bombardment of questions she still held for him. Importantly, why hadn't he told her of his secret mission? Wouldn't it of made a difference if he had?

She heard him heave a sigh, then moan as his body shifted against the large fluffy pillows supporting his head and back. Hopeful, she looked up at him. His eyelids were moving rapidly without opening. He parted his lips as he breathed in.

"Come on, Booth," she whispered.

Then all of a sudden the fog lifted. Gently Booth blinked his eyes open. His gaze immediately locked onto hers. "Bones." His voice was scratchy. Tortured.

It was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.

Brennan had nothing to say. All she could do was sniff back her tears.

"Don't," he murmured, his eyes already closing again. He squeezed her hand before falling back asleep.

"They tried to convince me you were dead," she whispered to him, knowing he couldn't hear her. "I knew better."

For another week Booth was kept under observation in the hospital. One afternoon when Brennan had arrived for a visit his doctor caught up with her, informing her he was in the process of being discharged. Pleased, Brennan quickened her steps to his room. Obviously she'd arrived just in time to take him home.

Booth was up and around his room. Mostly he had been able to get himself dressed. His broken rib and wrist were a definite hindrance. Anytime he so much as breathed in a sharp pain reminded him he wasn't as well as he was pretending. A brace had been put around his wrist, making it virtually useless.

Brennan walked in to find him struggling with the button and zipper on his pants. "Hi." She noticed his plight. "Oh. Let me."

"Ah I-" he nearly stumbled back onto his bed as she dropped to her knees before him and fiddled with the button.

Booth breathed in nervously.

Brennan mistook it for pain. "Do you need a pain killer?" She adjusted the zipper.

"No," he squeaked. Clearing his throat, he added, "I'm good."

She stood up in front of him. "Your doctor said you're ready to go home."

"Yeah. I'm just getting myself together." _In more ways than one now, _he thought ruefully.

They stood back and stared at each other. "Ready?" Brennan asked, breaking the quiet.

"Yeah."

On the ride home Brennan tried to be careful of any bumps in the road. Booth had been through enough. She knew with a broken rib the slightest movement could be roaring with pain. Anytime she glanced over at him he seemed to be at ease. Either she was doing a great job steering, or his pain killers hadn't worn off. She was leaning more towards the latter.

Soon she pulled up outside his apartment. The two ventured inside. Booth stopped dead at the flight of stairs leading up to his front door. It felt as though they stretched on forever. Medicated or not, Booth dreaded trying to drag his broken body up.

Brennan stood next to him. "What?"

"Nothing," he made himself smile. So far he'd done a great job hiding how terrible he really felt. If Brennan knew she was likely to drive him straight back to the hospital. After his extended stay that was the last thing he wanted.

"Then why are you standing here?"

"I'm not." He lifted himself onto the first step.

By the time he reached the top he was flushed from the pain stabbing his side and sweaty from the effort. Brennan said nothing while he unlocked his door. He only made it a few steps before he stopped again.

Despite Brennan's original intentions when she'd performed her investigation of his place, nothing had been cleaned. Booth's apartment was almost always very tidy. The junk on the floor was most likely a reminder of what had happened to him.

Booth hadn't shared much of his experience with her. Actually, he hadn't shared any of it. Brennan hadn't asked more than once. If there were certain things that he needed to hold close then she wouldn't push. In time she had confidence that he'd confide everything to her.

His eyes gave his feelings away. His condition wasn't going unnoticed.

"We'll fix it," Brennan assured him. "I'll help you."

He only nodded. Inside he limped, dodging clutter to lay down on his couch.

Brennan shut the door. She wanted to say something, but didn't know what. "Are you hungry?" She found herself asking. It wasn't at all what she really was looking to say. But at least if he agreed then she'd have something to do. Looking like he did only gave_ her_ a reminder of nightmares she was still trying to erase from her memory.

"Sure," he answered half heartedly.

Brennan left him behind to go into his kitchen. She searched around for something edible. Booth had almost no food in his cabinets. At last she managed to conjure up a can of soup. Now came the problem of finding pots and pans. Instead of searching, she decided to just ask him. "Booth?"

In the living room she found he had already fallen into a soft sleep. A blanket was laying over the back of his couch. She withdrew it and spread it out over him. Booth probably needed the rest. From there she decided to let him be.

As hard as it was Brennan left him alone following the next few days. Her reasoning was that he probably needed time alone to readjust. However, she found herself constantly thinking about him. Before leaving the hospital his doctor had warned her of the dangerous withdrawal symptoms of ecstasy, most importantly being depression and anxiety attacks. The length of time Booth had been given the drug wasn't enough for him to be addicted. But the amount in which he'd been given was enough to cause a withdrawal.

_He wants to be alone, _she had to remind herself any time she was tempted to pick up the phone. _He didn't ask you to stay with him. _Then again, he hadn't had the chance.

Four days passed without communication before Brennan's mind was made up. The last time she hadn't heard from him, he'd gotten himself into trouble.

Her worry transcended into anger. How dare he do this to her! Why hadn't he at least called to let her know he was all right?

Well, now she could justify herself. It was time she went to pay him a visit.

***

Booth couldn't breathe.

He was terrified. Paralyzed. His heart raced and his muscles tensed. Whatever happened, he was ready for a fight that didn't exist. Wouldn't take place. No matter what he did he couldn't free himself from the demons that were haunting him.

Ever since he'd woken up alone a few days ago he'd been having these attacks. The anxiety was enough to cause him to feel as though he were having a heart attack. Or losing his mind. He'd choke up as violent flashbacks crossed through his mind.

The rest of the time he just felt down. Booth had always been a fairly sunny person. When life got him down he was able to bounce back easily. Only it hadn't happened for him yet this time.

A knock at the door stirred his eyes open. But it didn't ease his symptoms. Wheezing, he barely had the strength to pull himself up off the couch. It occurred to him as he threw a shirt on over his shoulders that perhaps he should grab his gun. What if whomever on the other side was yet another operative from Tom's group? Someone who hadn't been arrested or linked?

The knocking intensified. "It's me!" Brennan hollered just as Booth was removing his gun from the holster.

Great. He didn't want her seeing him like this. He almost preferred the operative.

Using a deep breath to steady himself, he opened the door with a forced smile. "Hi, Bones."

Booth probably would have been able to pull off his charade had it not been for the horrible way his body was trembling.

Brennan's eyes turned round as she took him in. "Booth?"

"I'm okay," he insisted. "What are you doing here?"

"I-"

He didn't get to hear her finish her sentence. The memory of being struck by Tom's car hit him like a ton of bricks. Inhaling sharply, he took a step backwards.

Her hands were on his biceps. "Booth?"

Even his voice shook. "I'm all right."

"No, Booth." He was lying again. "No, you're not." Brennan guided his body to his couch where she sat him down. Down in front of him she knelt. "Booth?"

His stare was hazy. Tiredly he blinked at her.

"You keep lying to me," she accused.

"What do you mean?"

All the questions she'd had returned. "You never told me what you were doing. The danger you were putting yourself in."

The attack was beginning to subside. All the tension eased within his muscles. His words became freer. "I couldn't."

"Why? You've broken protocol before, Booth."

"The less you knew, the better."

"Why? Booth," she placed herself up on the couch next to him. "If I had known what was happening there's a good chance I would have been able to find you sooner."

"There's no saying that."

He wasn't listening. She took a hold of his hand. "You were legally dead," she said softly.

At last his eyes met hers. "I didn't want you knowing, Bones. It was too dangerous. If they discovered my true identity I didn't want them coming after you."

"But they did." She grimaced as he let out a shuddering sigh. Another attack seemed poised to start. "And they left me alone."

Booth still protested. "It wasn't a chance I was knowingly willing to take. I just wanted to protect you. Take care of you."

Brennan stood again. She eased him back down onto his back. "When are you going to let someone take care of you?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Bones. Don't."

"Let me stay," she persisted.

Having her presence around him seemed to calm his nerves. Her words struck a chord deep within him. "Okay," he agreed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note**: Originally I had ended this at the last chapter. However, more than one person wanted the story to continue. At first I didn't have any ideas. Now I do, but they get away from the initial plot of this story. And so, I'm writing a sequel - Just Another Victim.

* * *

First thing was first. Brennan knelt down next to him. "Have you been sleeping?" She felt like it was a stupid question. He didn't appear to be. Dark circles were under his lined eyes.

He was slow to respond. "Not really."

Booth was closing up on her and she knew it. Even if he was allowing her to stay, he definitely had no intentions of making it easy on her. After everything he was now struggling to protect her from himself.

"I can call your doctor and have him prescribe something."

"No!" He said with so much strong emotion in his voice that she reeled back. "No," he said then again, softly. "No pills."

"But Booth-"

"I'll be fine," he insisted, shutting his eyes.

Brennan drew his hand into hers. She held it, stroking the back of it with her thumb as he began to drift off. As his body fell under the stress darkening his features began to ease. His breathing slowed.

Satisfied, she rose to her feet. While he slept she was sure she could take a quick jaunt over to her place to retrieve some things. If she planned on staying a while, which judging by what she had seen so far she would be, she needed clothes and other personal items.

For no more than fifteen minutes she was gone. By the time she arrived back inside Booth was no longer sleeping peacefully. He'd flipped over onto his stomach. His muscles were clenched while he gasped. His hands had formed into fists.

Brennan dropped down to his side. "Booth!" She hollered, rubbing his back in an attempt to wake him.

Gradually he came to. Brennan got one good glance at the tortured look on his face before he turned his head away from her. His back rose and fell as he sucked in air to get his breathing back under control.

_How had he ever thought he could do this alone, _she wondered. This was going to be more of a war then she'd thought.

To be continued..


End file.
